Harry's New Path
by BadLuckRabbit
Summary: As long as Harry could remember, his Aunt and Uncle have always told him to not ask questions and to keep his sunglasses on at all times.
1. The Starting Path

A/N

Hey BadLuckRabbit here, trying out my first ever story. This first chapter is heavily derived from the first chapter of "Harry Potter and the Philosopher Stone", sorry, but it had to happen to get the story started.

I DO NOT OWN HARRY POTTER OR NARUTO

****Start Story****

"Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonagall."

That one little sentence would not have looked off, if it wasn't addressed to a strangely stiff tabby. But every thing about this man looked "odd". He was tall, thin, and very old, judging by the silver of his hair and beard, which were both long enough to tuck into his belt, as if he would forget it at home. He was wearing long robes, a purple cloak that swept the ground, and high-heeled, buckled boots. His blue eyes were light, bright, and sparkling behind half-moon spectacles and his nose was very long and crooked, as though it had been broken at least twice.

He turned to smile at the tabby, but it had gone. Instead he was smiling at a rather severe-looking woman who was wearing square glasses exactly the shape of the markings the cat had had around its eyes. She, too, was wearing a cloak, an emerald one. Her black hair was drawn into a tight bun. She looked distinctly ruffled.

"How did you know it was me?" she asked.

"My dear Professor, I've never seen a cat sit so stiffly."

"You'd be stiff if you'd been sitting on a brick wall all day," grumbled the tabby turn professor.

"All day? When you could have been celebrating? I must have passed a dozen feasts and parties on my way here. Should really let your hair down once and awhile."

"Oh yes, everyone's celebrating, all right," she said impatiently. "You'd think they'd be a bit more careful, but no — even the Muggles have noticed something's going on. It was on their news." She jerked her head back at the Dursleys' dark living-room window. "I heard it. Flocks of owls…shooting stars…Well, they're not completely stupid. They were bound to notice something. Shooting stars down in Kent — I'll bet that was Dedalus Diggle. He's probably drunk as everyone else is, no shame at all!"

"You can't blame them," said Dumbledore gently. "We've had precious little to celebrate for eleven years, even I would like to raise a glass in relief"

"I know that," said Professor McGonagall irritably. "But that's no reason to lose our heads. People are being downright careless, out on the streets in broad daylight, not even dressed in Muggle clothes, swapping rumors."

She threw a sharp, sideways glance at Dumbledore here, as though hoping he was going to tell her something, but he didn't, so she went on. "A fine thing it would be if, on the very day You-Know-Who seems to have disappeared at last, the Muggles found out about us all. I suppose he really has gone, Dumbledore?"

"It certainly seems so," said Dumbledore. "We have much to be thankful for. Would you care for a lemon drop?"

"A what?"

"A lemon drop. They're a kind of Muggle sweet I'm rather fond of."

"Umm, no, no thank you."

"Suit yourself" said Professor Dumbledore as he tossed one in his mouth.

Professor McGonagall shot a sharp look at Dumbledore and said "The owls are nothing next to the rumors that are flying around. You know what they're saying? About why he's disappeared? About what finally stopped him?"

It seemed that Professor McGonagall had reached the point she was most anxious to discuss, the real reason she had been waiting on a cold, hard wall all day, for neither as a cat nor as a woman had she fixed Dumbledore with such a piercing stare as she did now. It was plain that whatever "everyone" was saying, she was not going to believe it until Dumbledore told her it was true. Dumbledore, however, was choosing another lemon drop and did not answer.

"What they're saying," she pressed on, "is that last night Voldemort turned up in Godric's Hollow. He went to find the Potters. The rumor is that Lily and James Potter are — are — that they're — dead."

Dumbledore bowed his head. Professor McGonagall gasped.

"Lily and James…I can't believe it…I didn't want to believe it…Oh, Albus…"

Dumbledore reached out and patted her on the shoulder. "I know…I know…" he said heavily.

Professor McGonagall's voice trembled as she went on. "That's not all. They're saying he tried to kill the Potter's son, Harry. But he couldn't. He couldn't kill that little boy. No one knows why, or how, but they're saying that when he couldn't kill Harry Potter, Voldemort's power somehow broke — and that's why he's gone."

Dumbledore nodded glumly.

"It's — it's true?" faltered Professor McGonagall. "After all he's done…all the people he's killed…he couldn't kill a little boy? It's just astounding…of all the things to stop him…but how in the name of heaven did Harry survive?

"We can only guess." said Dumbledore. "We may never know."

Professor McGonagall pulled out a lace handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes beneath her spectacles.

Dumbledore gave a great sniff as he took a golden watch from his pocket and examined it. It was a very odd watch. It had twelve hands but no numbers; instead, little planets were moving around the edge. It must have made sense to Dumbledore, though, because he put it back in his pocket and said, "Hagrid's late. I suppose it was he who told you I'd be here, by the way?"

"Yes," said Professor McGonagall. "And I don't suppose you're going to tell me why you're here, of all places?"

"I've come to bring Harry to his aunt and uncle. They're the only family he has left now."

"You don't mean – you can't mean the people who live here?" cried Professor McGonagall, jumping to her feet and pointing at number four. "Dumbledore — you can't. I've been watching them all day. You couldn't find two people who are less like us. And they've got this son — I saw him kicking his mother all the way up the street, screaming for sweets. Harry Potter come and live here!"

"It's the best place for him," said Dumbledore firmly. "His aunt and uncle will be able to explain everything to him when he's older. I've written them a letter."

"A letter?" repeated Professor McGonagall faintly, sitting back down on the wall. "Really, Dumbledore, you think you can explain all this in a letter? These people will never understand him! He'll be famous — a legend — I wouldn't be surprised if today was known as Harry Potter day in the future — there will be books written about Harry — every child in our world will know his name!"

"Exactly." said Dumbledore, looking very seriously over the top of his half-moon glasses. "It would be enough to turn any boy's head. Famous before he can walk and talk! Famous for something he won't even remember! Can you see how much better off he'll be, growing up away from all that until he's ready to take it?"

Professor McGonagall opened her mouth, changed her mind, swallowed, and then said, "Yes — yes, you're right, of course. But how is the boy getting here, Dumbledore?" She eyed his cloak suddenly as though she thought he might be hiding Harry underneath it.

"Hagrid's bringing him."

"But, why not yourself, of course you would have gone to Godricks Hollow to confirm the rumors." Professor McGonagall asked confusingly.

"I did, and I brought Hagrid with me for support, and a good thing too. That house will never be the same ever again"

"Why would that be? Did James and Lilly put that much of a fight?" she ask, her voice showing pride in her former students.

"No, dont hear me wrong. James did put up a most ferocious fight, if the damage in the living room is to show. Then Lilly, being the loving mother she was, her body was right besides baby Harry. I checked her wand, she did not fight but defend, casting some of the most powerful shields in magic history. But alas, it was for not. No, it must have been the backlash of the Killing curse."

"How bad was it?" Professor McGonagall asked fearfully.

Dumbledore suddenly looked far older and sighed.

"The whole second floor is gone, destroyed, blown up. All but the nursery, where little harry was sleeping when we arrived."

McGonagall gasp

Dumbledore continued, "You have to understand, no one knows how a deflected Killing curse would act. It seems when it got repelled, everything else in the area did too. I had to make sure everyone else in the neighborhood was fine before heading here. I gave instructions to Hagrid to meet me here, it would be most unpleasant for the little one to go through a side Apparation."

"You think it —wise — to trust Hagrid with something as important as this?"

"I would trust Hagrid with my life," said Dumbledore.

"I'm not saying his heart isn't in the right place," said Professor McGonagall grudgingly, "but you can't pretend he's not careless. He does tend to — what was that?"

A low rumbling sound had broken the silence around them. It grew steadily louder as they looked up and down the street for some sign of a headlight; it swelled to a roar as they both looked up at the sky — and a huge motorcycle fell out of the air and landed on the road in front of them.

If the motorcycle was huge, it was nothing to the man sitting astride it. He was almost twice as tall as a normal man and at least five times as wide. He looked simply too big to be allowed, and so wild — long tangles of bushy black hair and beard hid most of his face, he had hands the size of trash can lids, and his feet in their leather boots were like baby dolphins. In his vast, muscular arms he was holding a bundle of blankets.

"Hagrid," said Dumbledore, sounding relieved. "At last. And where did you get that motorcycle?"

"Borrowed it, Professor Dumbledore, sir," said the giant, climbing carefully off the motorcycle as he spoke. "Young Sirius Black lent it to me. I've got him, sir."

"No problems, were there?"

"No, sir. Still asleep, just as we found him." Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall bent forward over the bundle of blankets. Inside, just visible, was a baby boy, fast asleep. Under a tuft of jet-black hair over his forehead they could see a curiously shaped cut, like a bolt of lightning.

"Is that where —?" whispered Professor McGonagall.

"Yes," said Dumbledore. "He'll have that scar forever."

"Couldn't you do something about it, Dumbledore?"

"Even if I could, I wouldn't. Scars can come in handy. I have one myself above my left knee that is a perfect map of the London Underground. Well — give him here, Hagrid — we'd better get this over with."

Dumbledore took Harry in his arms and turned toward the Dursleys' house.

"Could I — could I say good-bye to him, sir?" asked Hagrid. He bent his great, shaggy head over Harry and gave him what must have been a very scratchy, whiskery kiss. Then, suddenly, Hagrid let out a howl like a wounded dog.

"Shhh!" hissed Professor McGonagall, "You'll wake the Muggles!"

"S-s-sorry," sobbed Hagrid, taking out a large, spotted handkerchief and burying his face in it. "But I c-c-can't stand it —Lily an' James dead — an' poor little Harry off ter live with Muggles —"

"Yes, yes, it's all very sad, but get a grip on yourself, Hagrid, or we'll be found," Professor McGonagall whispered, patting Hagrid gingerly on the arm as Dumbledore stepped over the low garden wall and walked to the front door. He laid Harry gently on the doorstep, took a letter out of his cloak, tucked it inside Harry's blankets, and then came back to the other two. For a full minute the three of them stood and looked at the little bundle; Hagrid's shoulders shook, Professor McGonagall blinked furiously, and the twinkling light that usually shone from Dumbledore's eyes seemed to have gone out.

"Well," said Dumbledore finally, "that's that. We've no business staying here. We may as well go and join the celebrations."

"Yeah," said Hagrid in a very muffled voice, "I best get this bike away. G'night, Professor McGonagall — Professor Dumbledore, sir."

Wiping his streaming eyes on his jacket sleeve, Hagrid swung himself onto the motorcycle and kicked the engine into life; with a roar it rose into the air and off into the night.

"I shall see you soon, I expect, Professor McGonagall," said Dumbledore, nodding to her. Professor McGonagall blew her nose in reply. Dumbledore turned and walked back down the street. On the corner he stopped and took out the silver Put-Outer. He clicked it once, and twelve balls of light sped back to their street lamps so that Privet Drive glowed suddenly orange and he could make out a tabby cat slinking around the corner at the other end of the street. He could just see the bundle of blankets on the step of number four.

"Good luck, Harry," he murmured. He turned on his heel and with a swish of his cloak, he was gone.

A breeze ruffled the neat hedges of Privet Drive, which lay silent and tidy under the inky sky, the very last place you would expect astonishing things to happen. Harry Potter rolled over inside his blankets opening his eyes just slightly before nodding off back to sleep. If only they have only stayed just a moment or two they would have seen that instead of bright green eyes, baby Harry's eyes were now a light purple with a ripped-like pattern.


	2. The Zoo Path

A/N

Hey guys, BadluckRabbit here. Thanks for all of the reviews! I know that the last chapter was wasn't that different then the book. So I made sure to bring out this one as fast as possible. Just so you can get a fill of my writing stye and see some differences in this world compared to the one in the book.

I would like to think everyone who left a review, those are mostly the reason I got this out so fast.

For now on, Im going to add some more "meat" in my future chapters. As this world starts becoming more and more AU from the Harry Potter book, there with be more and more to add to the chapters.

Thanks

By the way: I DO NOT OWN ANYTHING THAT HAS TO DO WITH HARRY POTTER OR NARUTO. SO STAY BACK LAWYERS! BACK I SAY!

"taking"

"_Thoughts"_

_**"Parseltongue"**_

******Start Chapter******

The morning sun shined down on a humble little neighborhood, bringing a whole new day. And what a day it is! For on this day, a boy of Number Four Privet Drive just turned 11. He was still asleep, having dreams of cake, presents, and ice-cream. Just knowing that this day would only be the best day ever.

Now lets shift our focus on to another boy, still fast asleep just like the other one. His dreams were full of being anywhere but in this very house on this beautiful day. A pity that he was going to be ruefully awaken, the same way as yesterday, and the day before that.

"GET UP! GET UP NOW!"

BANG

"Ouch!"

Waking up has always been painful to this poor boy. Maybe, just maybe, if he was woken up more gently, he would not hit his head on a low beam above his bed. Holding his aching head in his hands as he glares at the evil beam, he start trying to remember why he felt dread about this day. Something about Dudley, his whale of a cousin, that was more then likely still in wonderful sleep heaven. "_But not me_", this boy thought glumly. This boy, Harry Potter, never quite felt love for his relatives. Sure they took him in, feed, clothed, and gave him a place to sleep, but thats all they really did for him. There was no "Welcome home", or "Good Night", or "I Love You". It was always "GET UP", "GO AWAY", or "DO THIS" or "DO THAT". Yup, not the best way to live life, but it's tolerable.

"ARE YOU UP YET?!" his aunt Petunia said loudly outside his door.

"Nearly," said Harry.

"Well, hurry up, I want you to look after the bacon. And dont burn it, I want my Duddy's birthday to be perfect!"

Harry groaned. Thats why I felt dread this morning. As Harry got up from his mat, carful to avoid the evil beam, he started to look for his socks. After finding them, and pulling off the occasional spider, he sat down to admirer his room. People would say that it looked like a cupboard, and they would be right. But to Harry, it was a safe haven. No one would point at him in here, or whisper behind his back. Nobody but him, and it was nice to get away form the world.

"WELL, ARE YOU GOING TO GET OUT!" screeched his aunt as she knocked on his door.

"Yes aunt Petunia" sighed Harry

"AND DONT FORGET TO PUT YOUR GLASSES ON!"

Ah yes, his sunglasses, how could he forget. There was only two rules in the Dursley house for Harry. Don't ask questions, and always wear your sunglasses. Now, both of those rules might have sounded odd to some, especially the last one. But, if you happen to get look at Harry, you might understand the former rule. Harry had always been small and skinny for his age. He looked even smaller and skinnier than he really was because all he had to wear were old clothes of Dudley's, and Dudley was about four times bigger than he was. Harry had a thin face, knobbly knees, black hair, and for some reason, eyes were a solid light purple. Now, when I say solid, I'm not saying just his Iris. I'm mean all of it but his cornea. And, to make his eyes stand out even more, was the ripple-like pattern it had. This feature was enough to make people stare and point at him as if he was a freak. In fact, that was what his relatives and classmates favorite nickname for him. So, how did his aunt and uncle fix this problem? Sunglasses, big, round, and so black and shiny you can see your reflection, sunglasses. But that was'ent all. Oh no. To put the cherry on top of his ice-cream so called life, was a dark angry, red lightning bolt shape scar right in the middle of his forehead. Which the Dursleys have also tried to hide with his hair. His eyes and scar have always been a part of his life as long as he could remember. He once asked his aunt about the scar. And her answer? " In a car crash that killed your parents, now stop asking questions and go way."

Harry sighed, reaching for one of many, but same design, pairs of sunglasses, to put on as he started down the hall into the kitchen. The table was swarmed by Dudley's birthday presents. More then likely half will be destroyed by the end of the week, not many things were 'Dudley Proof'. Unfortunately, Harry was.

His uncle Vernon entered the kitchen as Harry watched breakfast.

"Comb your hair!" he barked.

One of his uncle's favorite past times was shouting at Harry. About once a week, Uncle Vernon looked over the top of his newspaper and shouted that Harry needed a haircut. Harry must have had more haircuts than the rest of the boys in his class put together, but it made no difference, his hair simply grew that way everywhere.

As Dudley walked in the the room, Harry tuned out the noise. If today was anything like last year, then Dudley would start crying about the number of presents. Every year, it had to be better and bigger then the last. And every year, Harry was not included. As they went and have fun, he was stuck with Mrs. Figg. Not that she was mean, but there was only so many hours you can look at cat pictures and not snap. Maybe she will have some week old cake?

Harry was brought out of his dreams of cake by a crying Dudley.

"I...don't..want...him...to COME!"

Wait, what?

"He always spoils everything!" Dudley continued.

Before Harry had time to figure out what was going on the doorbell rang — "Oh, good Lord, they're here!" said Aunt Petunia frantically — and a moment later, Dudley's best friend, Piers Polkiss, walked in with his mother. Piers was a scrawny boy with a face like a rat. He was usually the one who held people's arms ( mostly Harry's) behind their backs while Dudley hit them. Dudley stopped pretending to cry at once.

Right then uncle Vernon had put his hand on Harry's shoulder and gave a more then firm squeeze.

"I'm warning you boy, no funny business at all, unless you want to spend everyday in the cupboard until Christmas." He said quietly with a force smile. Making sure not to alarm the Polkiss's.

Could it be? Was he finally going to one of Dudley's parties?

"I wont, I mean... I'm not going to do anything," blurted out Harry, "honestly."

But Uncle Vernon gave him a glance like he didn't believe him, no one ever did.

The thing was, strange things always happened around Harry.

Once, Aunt Petunia, tired of Harry coming back from the barbers looking as though he hadn't been at all, had taken a pair of kitchen scissors and cut his hair so short he was almost bald except for his bangs, which she left "to hide that horrible scar." Dudley had laughed himself silly at Harry, who spent a sleepless night imagining school the next day, where he was already laughed at for his baggy clothes and dark sunglasses. But the next morning it had all grown back as if it never happened. He was given a week in his cupboard for that for some reason.

Another time, at school. Dudley was trying to pull off his sunglasses for the whole school yard to see his "Freaky Eyes". But no matter how hard he tried to pull, they would not budge, as if they were glued to his face. That was one of the only times he had seen DUDLEY get punished. It seemed the Dursleys really didnt want other people to see his eyes. And he agreed with them, to the fullest. Three months later Dudley got his wish, when Harry's glasses fell off during a game of football at school. Ever since then, he has been known as "Freak", or "Crazy Eyes" at school.

Then there was the time he found himself on the schools roof. Dudley's gang had been chasing him as usual when, as much to Harry's surprise as anyone else's, there he was sitting on the chimney. The Dursleys had received a very angry letter from Harry's headmistress telling them Harry had been climbing school buildings. But all he'd tried to do (as he shouted at Uncle Vernon through the locked door of his cupboard) was jump behind the big trash cans outside the kitchen doors. Harry supposed that the wind must have caught him in mid-jump. But the odd thing was, he felt his eyes pulse as he jumped.

But today, nothing was going to go wrong. It was even worth being with Dudley and Piers to be spending the day somewhere that wasn't school, his cupboard, or Mrs. Figg's cabbage-smelling living room.  
It seemed this years birthday would be spent at the zoo. The Dursleys bought Dudley and Piers large chocolate ice creams at the entrance and then, because the smiling lady in the van had asked Harry what he wanted before they could hurry him away, they bought him a cheap lemon ice pop. It wasn't bad, either, Harry thought, licking it as they watched a gorilla scratching its head who looked remarkably like Dudley, except that it wasn't blond.

Harry felt great, this had to be one of the best mornings he had in a long time. Every once in a while he would pretend that it was HIS birthday, but that was only wishful thinking. The Dursleys never cared much about his birthday. The only thing they would get him was another pair of sunglasses.

But, like everything in Harry's life, it was too good to last.

After lunch they went to the reptile house. It was cool and dark in there, with lit windows all along the walls. Behind the glass, all sorts of lizards and snakes were crawling and slithering over bits of wood and stone. Dudley and Piers wanted to see huge, poisonous cobras and thick, man-crushing pythons. Dudley quickly found the largest snake in the place. It could have wrapped its body twice around Uncle Vernon's car and crushed it into a trash can — but at the moment it didn't look in the mood. In fact, it was fast asleep.

Dudley had his nose pressed up against the glass, making him look more piggish, staring at the snake.

"Make it move, he whined.

Uncle Vernon went up to the glass and gave it a tap, but the snake didn't budge.

"This is boring," moaned Dudley as he walked away.

Harry moved in front of the tank and looked intently at the snake. He wouldn't have been surprised if it had died of boredom itself — no company except stupid people like Uncle Vernon drumming their fingers on the glass trying to disturb it all day long. It was worse than having a cupboard as a bedroom, where the only visitor was Aunt Petunia hammering on the door to wake you up; at least he got to visit the rest of the house.

The snake suddenly opened its beady eyes. Slowly, very slowly, it raised its head until its eyes were on a level with Harry's.

It winked.

Wait, what?

Harry stared. Then looked around nervously, wondering if Uncle Vernon would consider this as "Funny Business". But no one was watching.

The snake pointed its head at them and seemed to roll its eyes.

"I hear yea," Harry whispered. "It must be really annoying."

The snake nodded happily, looking pleased to have someone to talk to.

"So, where do you come from?" Harry asked.

The snake jabbed its tail at a little sign next to the glass. Harry peered at it.

Boa Constrictor, Brazil.

"Was it nice there?"

The boa constrictor jabbed its tail at the sign again and Harry read on: This specimen was bred in the zoo. "Oh, sorry — so you've never been to Brazil?"

As the snake shook its head a deafening shout behind Harry made both of them jump. "Dudley! Mr. Dursley! Come quick! Check out the snake!"

Dudley came rolling down the hall way as fast as he could.

"Out of the way, freak" he said, punching Harry in the ribs. Caught by surprise, Harry fell hard on the concrete floor. And right as he landed, he felt his eyes pulse.

And chaos erupted.

Everyone in the room was blown off their feet, crashing in to the walls and ground. All the glass that served as windows for the exhibits shattered, giving the reptiles free access to where every they wanted to go. Vernon happened to land safely but in a daze, right on top of Piers and his mother. It seems that both of their strength was not enough to get the over weight man off them, and now have turn their effort in shouting for help. Dudley seems to have gotten his birthday wish granted in seeing the giant snake move, right over his face. As half of his body was laying in the large show case and blocking the exit, the snake had no choice.

Harry just sat there, wide eye at the destruction all around him. So much in shock, he almost did'nt see the huge Boa Constrictor move in front of him and rise to his face. Harry just stared dumbly at the snake that had one of the largest smiles he has ever seen.

"_**Thanksss, amigo,**_" hissed the over grown snake. "_**Brazil, here I come!**_"

As everyone was getting up and help had come in the form of the reptile staff. Harry just stared at the door, in which the Boa just exited. He didn't even feel his uncle, having just snapped out of his daze and apologizing over and over again to the Polkiss's, grab him by the arm and haul him on to his feet. Even mindlessly being steered towards the car, right after Uncle Vernon got a full refund and extra park tickets, the drive, and being lead to the cupboard. He vaguely hear something about no meals, but he wasn't paying attention. There was only one thought going through his mind, just one sentence that he has been replaying over and over again in his mind.

_"But, I didn't do anything"_


	3. The Letter Path

Hey everyone, BadLuckRabbit here.

Not much that I need to tell you. Just please keep sending me reviews, it gets my motivation up and makes me want to write faster. Your input is greatly encouraged. Also, I'm having a bit of a tough time in coming up in ways Harry can come across all 7 paths. I don't want all of them to be discovered in his first year. So send me ways in which you think Harry might accidentally release his paths. The ones I'm having the most difficulty in coming up with is the Asura Path and the Naraka path. I already have an idea on the other ones. So if you have a suggestion then I would love to hear it.

I DONT OWN HARRY POTTER OR NARUTO!

"talking"

"_thinking_"

*****Start Story******

The "Horror at the Zoo", as it was called in the Dursley house, earned Harry his longest punishment ever. By the time he was allowed out of his cupboard again, the summer holidays had started and Dudley had already broken his 1/3 of his birthday presents. So it must have only been about four weeks, since it takes 6 weeks for Dudley to break only half.

It wasn't so bad in the cupboard, it wasn't like he couldn't see anything. Harry always seemed to have better vision then most people if he just focused his eyes. When people complained that it was to dark, Harry could see as if the room was covered in light. If something was too far, Harry would describe it in such detail, that it was as if it was right in front of his face. Then, there was some weird things he could see. The golden bubble surrounding the Dursley's home was a prime example. He tried to ask his Uncle about it, but he wouldn't listen. Though Harry was sure that he looked like a crazy person to the neighbors, trying to poke the invisible bubble in the front yard.

But, being in the cupboard now served a very useful purpose to Harry right now. It gave him time to be alone with his thoughts. And what was the most pressing issue to Harry right now is what exactly happened in the reptile house. Harry knew for a fact that he felt his eyes pulse right before everything went to hell. What he wanted to know was why it happened, and if he could do it again. So if you were to look in his cupboard right now you would see Harry staring at a little dice cube. Harry had a little box of little nix-knacks that he found on the street or under the furniture in the house. To Harry, time seemed to grow shorter when he was punished in the cupboard if he had something to play with. So Harry's choice object to experiment on was this little dice cube. His reason was if it turned, he would be able to tell by the little numbers.

So, there he sat, glaring at the little cube, wandering if he had gone crazy.

"Move," Harry whispered to the dice.

"Go on, roll over, shake, do something." But the cube just laid there.

Sighing in frustration, Harry thought back to that day. He knew his eyes pulse, but how do you make them do that on purpose? "Maybe I need to visualize it?" Harry thought. Closing his eyes, he imaged the dice rolling over away from him. As he opened them he focused on the dice as he squint at it. Rethinking the command over and over again he tried to put some force behind his eyes. Then, he felt it, the pulse. And, right then the little cube rolled over.

Harry shouted in joy. "YES!"

Right then the cupboard door slammed open, with his Aunts face right outside glaring at him.

"Just want are you doing!" She said sharply.

"Nothing Aunt Petunia."

"Well get out here, there's weeds in the back yard that needs your attention."

"Yes Aunt Petunia"

As he stepped out he was hit by a powerful smell coming from the kitchen. As he made his way over there to reach the back door, he saw his Aunt returning to a large metal tub in the sink. He went over to have a look. The tub was full of what looked like dirty rags swimming in gray water.

"What's that?" He asked his aunt.

Her lips tightened as they always did when he asked a question.

"Your new school uniform," she said

Ah, yes. Secondary school was coming up and as Dudley was going to Smeltings, Harry would be going to Stonewall. Any where Dudley would not be going to would be a good place to go, in Harry's humble opinion.

"Oh," he said, "I didn't know it had to be so wet."

"Don't be stupid," she snapped. "I'm dyeing some of Dudley's old things gray for you. It'll look just like everyone else's when I'm done"

Harry seriously doubted this, it seems that her main goal was to make sure he had as little friends as possible.

Dudley and Uncle Vernon came in,both with wrinkled noses because of the smell from Harry's new uniform. Uncle Vernon opened his newspaper as usual and Dudley banged his Smelting stick, which for some reason was part of the uniform, on the table.

Just as Harry was going to the back door to get started on the weeds before it got to hot outside they heard the click of the mail slot. Harry just stopped, waiting for the command that was about to come.

"Get the mail, Dudley," Uncle Vernon said behind his paper

"Make Harry get it."

"Get the mail, Harry."

But Harry was already in the hallway heading for the mail.

"Lets see here," thought Harry as he picked up the mail off the doormat. "Bill, bill, a postcard from Aunt Merge, bill, a letter for me..."

Wait, what?

Harry stared at the letter as if it was a tap dancing squirrel. No one, ever, in his whole life, had written to him. And why would they? He had no friends thanks to his eyes and Dudley. Yet here it was, a letter, addressed to his cupboard.

**Mr. H. Potter**

**The Cupboard under the Stairs**

**4 Privet Drive**

**Little Whinging**

**Surrey**

The envelope was think and heavy, made of yellowish parchment, giving it an old fashion look to it.

Turning it over, there was a purple wax seal bearing a coat of arms; a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a snake surrounding a large letter "H".

"Hurry up, boy!" shouted Uncle Vernon from the kitchen. "What are you doing, checking for letter bombs?"

Harry rolled his eyes at the lame joke as he went back to kitchen. He handed his uncle his mail and started to open the yellow envelope.

As Uncle Vernon started to mumble about "bloody bills", Dudley next sentence brought him out of his thoughts.

"Dad!" shouted Dudley. "Dad, Harry's got a letter!"

Harry looked up from the half way open letter to send a glare at Dudley, which no one would be able to tell with his sunglasses in the way. As he was returning his eyes to the letter it was snatched out of his hands by his uncle.

"Hey! Thats mine!" said Harry, trying to snatch it back.

"Who'd be writing to you?" sneered his uncle.

"If you would let me read it I would be able to tell you!" snapped Harry.

Uncle Vernon just ignored him as he unfolded the letter and glancing at it. His face turned red and then started to get grayer and whiter as he read.

"P-P-Petuia!" he gasped.

Dudley tried to grab the letter to read it, but Uncle Vernon held it high of his reach. Aunt Petunia took it curiously and read the first line. For a moment it looked as though she might faint. She clutched her throat and made a choking noise.

"Vernon! Oh my goodness - Vernon!"

Dudley started to hit his father to get to the letter, thinking it was his turn to see what it said.

"I want to read that letter," he said loudly.

"I want to read it," Harry said furiously, "as it's mine."

"Get out, both of you," croaked his uncle

But Harry wasn't moving

"I WANT MY LETTER!" he shouted.

"OUT!" roared Uncle Vernon, as he shoved them through the door in to the hall. As he slammed the door shut, Harry and Dudley scrambled to the door, trying to get a good look through the door cracks.

"Vernon," Aunt Petunia said in a quivering voice, "look at the address - how could they know where he sleeps" You don't think they're watching the house?"

"Watching - spying - might be following us," muttered Uncle Vernon wildly.

"But what should we do, Vernon?"

"We ignore it. If they don't get an answer... Yes, that's best...we won't do anything..."

"But-"

"I'm not having one in the house, Petunia! Didn't we swear when we took him in we'd stamp out that dangerous nonsense? We already have to deal with his eye's, I'm not going do put up with anymore unnaturalness!"

That night when Harry was done with the yard and Vernon got off work, his uncle visited Harry in his cupboard.

"Where's my letter!" Harry demanded. "Who's writing to me?"

No one. It was addressed to you by mistake," his uncle said. "I have burned it."

"It was not a mistake," Harry said angrily, "it had my cupboard on it!"

"SILENCE!" yelled Uncle Vernon, and a couple of spiders fell down.

Trying to calm himself, Vernon continued.

"Er - yes, Harry - about the cupboard. Your aunt and I have been thinking...you're really getting a bit big for it...we think it might be nice if you moved into Dudley's second bedroom.

"Why?" said Harry suspiciously.

Harry was never given anything unless there was a purpose to it. And Harry would bet that who ever was writing to him, the Dursleys did not like it, at all.

"Don't ask questions!" snapped his uncle. "Take this stuff upstairs, now."

The Dursleys' house had four bedrooms: one for Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia, one for visitors (usually Uncle Vernon's sister, Marge), one where Dudley slept, and one where Dudley kept all the toys and things that wouldn't fit into his first bedroom. It only took Harry one trip upstairs to move everything he owned from the cupboard to this room. He sat down on the bed and stared around him. Nearly everything in here was broken. The month-old video camera was lying on top of a small, working tank Dudley had once driven over the next door neighbor's dog; in the corner was Dudley's first-ever television set, which he'd put his foot through when his favorite program had been canceled; there was a large birdcage, which had once held a parrot that Dudley had swapped at school for a real air rifle, which was up on a shelf with the end all bent because Dudley had sat on it. Other shelves were full of books. They were the only things in the room that looked as though they'd never been touched.

Harry could hear the sound of Dudley crying to his mother, "I don't want him in there...I need that room...tell the freak to get out..."

Harry sighed and stretched out on the bed. Sure it was a lot nicer then the cupboard. It was a whole like roomier then his old room, if you could call that a room. But Harry felt it was too big. He would give anything right now to be back there with his letter, or just anywhere with that letter. Who could have sent it? How did they know he lived in the cupboard? That information was impossible to get. Dudley was forbidden to tell anybody about the cupboard, along with messing with Harry's sunglasses, to anyone. It was the only thing they really put their foot down on. Harry didn't know what they threaten Dudley with, but he kept his mouth shut. And there was noway Harry would mention that detail about himself, people already looked at him weird, no need to add to it.

But yet, someone knew, and it scared the living crap out of Dursley's.

The next morning at breakfast everyone was rather quiet. Dudley was in shock, he could not believe after all the crying and destruction he caused, he still did not have his room back. Harry felt that if there was any good from yesterday, then it was seeing Dudley not get his way. It was always a rare and special time that Harry would always treasure. Nothing made Harry feel better about his life then seeing Dudley get worked up over little things. But this time it barley effected Harry this time around, since he was also a bit mad about it. Oh what he wouldn't give to go back one day and open that letter in the hall.

When the mail arrived, Uncle Vernon, who seemed to be trying to be nice to Harry, made Dudley go and get it. They heard him banging things with his Smelting stick all the way down the hall. Then he shouted, "There's another one! 'Mr. H. Potter, The Smallest Bedroom, 4 Privet Drive -'"

Harry's head shot up and ran towards the hall as fast as he could. But Vernon grabbed him by the collar before he got to far. His uncle pushed Harry behind him as he headed towards Dudley, who he had to wrestle the letter out of his hands. At that point Harry tried to get to the letter by going for Vernon's neck, trying to bring the letter closer to the ground. After a minute of confused fighting, in which everyone got hit a lot by the Smelting stick, and Harry got a lucky kick in at Dudley's face, Uncle Vernon straightened up, gasping for breath, with Harry's letter clutched in his hand.

"Go to your cupboard - I mean, your bedroom," he wheezed at Harry. A bright red welt slowly forming on his face from Dudley's stick attack. "Dudley - go - just go."

Harry walked round and round his new room. Someone knew he had moved out of his cupboard and they seemed to know he hadn't received his first letter. Surely that meant they'd try again? And this time he'd make sure they didn't fail. He had a plan.

*******scene brake******

"AAAAARRRRRRGH"

"Well there goes that plan." Harry thought.

And it was such a good plan. Harry got up around six o' clock, knowing that the Dursleys would be sleeping in on this saturday morning. But as he approached the door, it seemed that the door mat got fatter and squishier.

And thats when he stepped on his uncles face.

As Uncle Vernon destroyed his letters in front of his face, Harry felt grim satisfaction as the area around his uncles right eye started to turn yellow and black.

"Maybe if I stepped a little harder, he would have been too much in pain to notice the letters. Oh, well" Harry thought sadly.

The rest of the week went mostly the same way. No mattered what Harry tried, Uncle Vernon would always be there one step ahead. But Harry had hope, the letters were multiplying, and being delivered in ways that were laughable. How in the world did they get them in two dozen eggs?

Harry sighed as he laid on his new bed. He needed a way to get the letters past his uncle. Harry turned over on the bed and looked at the little night-stand that stood by the bed. There, resting on it was the little dice cube Harry had used to practice his weird ability. He just continued staring at it, not really paying attention to it. But as he finally took in what he was looking at, his eyes started to widen.

"THATS IT!" Shouted Harry.

"BE QUEIT, BOY!" came a shout down stairs.

"Sorry Uncle Vernon."

****scene break******

The next morning, Uncle Vernon sat down at the breakfast table looking tired and rather ill, but happy.

"No post on Sundays," he reminded them cheerfully as he spread marmalade on his newspapers, "no dame letters today."

Harry groaned, also looking tired. He had forgotten that there was to be no post today. After staying up all night practicing, it was going to go to wast today. Oh well, at least Dudley and Uncle Vernon still had black eyes. Seeing that always made the day a little brighter after watching his letters be destroyed. And now it looked like he would be able to witness his uncle eat his newspaper. It really is the little things in life.

Harry was snapped out of his thoughts as something cam whizzing down the kitchen chimney and hit his uncle on the back of the head, just before he was going to take a bite out of the sports section. Next moment, thirty or forty letters came pelting out of the fireplace like bullets. The Dursleys ducked, but Harry saw the opportunity he was waiting for.

Harry held out his hand and focused on the letters that were shooting out of the chimney.

"COME HERE!" Harry shouted as he felt his eyes pulse.

The letters changed directions instantly. Instead of shooting out in randomly all around Harry, they now shoot right for him, going faster them he wanted them to.

Harry didn't have time to react as he was pelted with letters from all sides.

"Out! OUT!" Uncle Vernon seized Harry around the waist. Checking him over to see if he had any letters in his hands, once he was satisfied he threw him into the hall.

As soon as Harry hit the ground he jumped up and ran as fast as he could to his room. Hugging his stomach as if it would burst, he slammed open his door and dived in, kicking the door shut with his air born legs. He laid there panting, his heart throbbing so fast he worried if he was going to have a heart attack. Slowly, he let go of his stomach and slowly reached in to his shirt, and withdrew a thick yellow envelope.

But, his celebration would have to wait as he heard his uncle stomping up the stairs. Panicking, Harry shoved the letter down his shirt again, his body shaking in adrenaline.

His uncle slammed the bedroom door open, his face red with rage and with half of his mustache missing.

"I WANT YOU DOWN STAIRS READY TO LEAVE. WE'RE GOING AWAY. JUST PACK SOME CLOTHES. NO ARGUMENTS!"

All Harry could do was shake his head up and down wildly like and idiot. His sunglasses barley hanging on.

Ten minutes later Harry was sitting in the back seat of the car, right beside Dudley who was sniffling about not being able to bring his television.

They drove and drove. Harry, still clutching his stomach, reassuring himself that the unopened letter was still there. They didn't stop until it was late at night outside a gloomy-looking hotel. Dudley and Harry shared a room with twin beds and damp, musty sheets. Dudley snored but Harry stayed awake, still holding his waist. Not daring to pull out the letter in fear of waking Dudley. He had to wait, but it was killing him, he never felt so paranoid in his life. Every move he made, he was sure the Dursleys could hear the paper ruffle. How long could he keep it hidden? How long could he restrain himself from reading it? But right now, Harry just feel asleep, just being happy that he had it.

The next morning, as they finished up there stale cornflakes, the hotel owner came over to their table.

"Scuse me, but is one of you Mr. H. Potter? Only I got about an 'undred of these at the desk."

She held up a letter so they could read the green ink address:

**Mr H. Potter**

**Room 17**

**Railview Hotel**

**Cokeworth**

Harry clutched his stomach harder, reassuring himself that his letter was still there.

"I'll take them," said Uncle Vernon, standing up quickly and following her from the dining room.

"Wouldn't it be better just to go home, dear?" Aunt Petunia suggested timidly, hours later, but Uncle Vernon didn't seem to hear her. Exactly what he was looking for, none of them knew. He drove them into the middle of a forest, got out, looked around, shook his head, got back in the car, and off they went again. The same thing happened in the middle of a plowed field, halfway across a suspension bridge, and at the top of a multilevel parking garage.

"Daddy's gone mad, hasn't he?" Dudley asked Aunt Petunia dully late that afternoon. Uncle Vernon had parked at the coast, locked them all inside the car, and disappeared.

It started to rain. Great drops beat on the roof of the car. Dudley sniveled.

"It's Monday," he told his mother. "The Great Humberto's on tonight. I want to stay somewhere with a television."

Monday. This reminded Harry of something. If it was Monday - and you could usually could on Dudley to know the days of the week, because of television - then tomorrow, would be Harry's eleventh birthday. He had forgotten all about it with all the chaos the letters had provided. Not that his birthdays were very special, all he would get was a pair of sunglasses and maybe a coat hanger. But hey, you didn't turn eleven everyday!

Uncle Vernon was back and smiling. He was also carrying a long, thin package and didn't answer Aunt Petunia when she asked what he'd bought.

But he just ignored her and started to take the bags out of the car.

"Found the perfect place!" he said. "Come on! Everyone out!"

Harry got out slowly, hunching over slightly to provide cover for the letter that has not left his shirt since being in the Dursley home.

"Storm forecast for tonight!" said Uncle Vernon gleefully for some reason. "And this gentleman's kindly agreed to lend us his boat!"

As they climbed in to the boat, you could see a little shack on a barley big enough rock out at sea, that Vernon was pointing to happily. Harry tried to get right in the middle of the boat, getting the letter as far from the ice mist that sprayed in to the boat by the wind.

When they finally got to the rock, they all rushed in the shack to escape the horrible weather, but finding out there no warmth inside at all.

Vernon pulled out a bag that held some chips and four bananas for everyone to eat, Dudley was not happy. Then Uncle Vernon tried to start a fire but the empty chip bags just smoked and shriveled up.

"Could do with some of those letters now, eh?" he said cheerfully.

That comment just cause Harry's face to pale and to start holding his shirt closely to his chest, trying to hide the hidden letter better.

But Vernon paid no mind to Harry's actions do to his very good mood.

As night fell, the promised storm blew up around them. Spray from the high waves splattered the walls of the hut and a fierce wind rattled the filthy windows. Aunt Petunia found a few moldy blankets in the second room and made up a bed for Dudley on the moth-eaten sofa. She and Uncle Vernon went off to the lumpy bed next door, and Harry was left to find the softest bit of floor he could and to curl up under the thinnest, most ragged blanket.

As the storm raged more and more ferociously as the night went on, Harry waited for everyone to fall asleep. He could barley hear Dudley's snores being coverd by the thunder from outside. The lighted dial of Dudley's watch, which was dangling over the edge of the sofa on his fat wrist, told Harry he'd be eleven in ten minutes' time. Now with all the noise going on outside would be the perfect time to open his letter

Five minutes to go. Harry slowly brought out the letter from his shirt, slightly warm from his body heat. Harry just stared at it, still not beleaving what was in his hand.

Three minutes to go. Harry strained his ears, trying to pick up any strange sounds. Was the see all ways slapping that hard againts the rock?

One minute to go. He broke apart the seal slowly, his heart beating like mad. Opening the envople he started to pull the think paper out.

"_This is it,"_ thought Harry "_This is it!"_

The whole shack shivered and Harry jumped upright out off the ground, staring at the door. Someone was outside, knocking to come in**__****.**


End file.
